the spending of time

Hello! After my week off from blogging, I am back and teeming with competing thoughts I want to blog about. What probably will happen is that I will forget the majority of them. sigh.

The main things that took up my past week were: switching kids' bedrooms, which meant a major clean out, spackling ( if you live in an older home you will understand that this means you basically have to be Michelangelo with a putty knife to make the walls look smooth for painting), and, yes, painting.

Ben accidentally put his hand through a plate glass door. So that was a fun night. Thank God many times over that he did not sever anything that impaired his mobility. My up and coming jazz drummer! We actually went straight from getting stitches to a gig. He did not want to miss it! Turns out, the gig itself was one of those Gigs from Hell. All you musicians will know what I mean by this.

Also I am playing Candy Crush. Level 36. Don't judge!

The beautiful fall-like weather has made me want to clean every inch of the house. There are quite a few inches left, but I am chipping away at it.


And lastly, but not so in weight; today was our regular 3rd Saturday pro life vigil. We were blessed to have Father Denis Wilde from Priests for Life with us today.
* a little aside -- Father Wilde is also an a.mazing pianist. As Bob and I were coming in to the church this morning, Father was playing -- some gorgeous piece, full of intricate harmonies and swelling dynamics. As we approached, he saw we needed to get into that space, and as the piece wound down, going through at least three different keys, I wanted to know what it was, it was so beautiful.

He just made it up.

O-kay! Now we have to play our little ditties, Father. yikes. Bob did play a part of Bach's English Suites for the offertory. Did a nice job, too. :) Though the organ sound on his keyboard at home is much better than the one there. Oh well. We muddled through.
end of note.*

So, on our way over to the Planned Parenthood where we have been going for years to pray, I was carrying my "I regret my abortion" sign sideways under my arm. Someone driving by REALLY needed to slow down and yell out his window, "stop harassing people!"

Anybody else see the irony?

 This particular message does several things other pro life messages can't. It lets the reader know that the person bearing it has personal experience with abortion. It also does not put the bearer in the position or perceived position of looking down on the reader, whatever their views on abortion may be. It simply states a personal feeling about having had an abortion.

So whomever I am harassing is not a good reader.


As we stood and prayed, a young woman on a bike wove through our group and said, "don't you have anything better to do with your time?"

What a poignant question. If society at large was not shielded from the gruesome reality of what was taking place inside that facility at that very moment, they would not ask that question. It would not be more important to take a bike ride on a lovely morning, or walk and get Starbucks, or do anything except express opposition to the legalized slaughter of innocents. Legalized, glamorized, made out to be hip, fashionable, and enlightened, the encouragement of our young women to think of themselves as things to be used and their fertility despised. The thought that to be pro woman is to march our beautiful young ladies into these chambers of death, where their babies will be cut apart, sucked out, and pieced back together to be sure all the body parts are there (oh yes, body pars, not clumps of cells), and thrown away like so much trash. This is what we are calling Enlightened Women's Health Care, folks, in the U S of A.

So, no, my dear, I can not think of anything better to do with my time. As hard as it is becoming to get up at the necessary hour,  it is nothing compared to the fate of the poor souls going to God before their appointed time. I have no room to complain, either. A dear friend and stalwart pro life worker, Bill Miller, showed up today after: two bypass operations, two bouts of double pneumonia and other rough heath issues, all at the age of 78! May God richly bless him.

Well. Candy Crush may not be a good way to spend my time, either, but in the scheme of things, it is my way to unwind.

God Bless All.

+JMJ+

Kelly